Creaky Floorboards
by whowouldathought
Summary: Musings on Maggie's life after Glenn and Terminus. I love Maggie and Glenn as much as any other TWD fan, but I couldn't get the idea of a Daryl/Maggie moment out of my head once I had thought of it. Here's my idea of how it might go down. Started out as a one-shot, but I'm continuing with it. M for smut.
1. Chapter 1

Daryl tread softly down the upstairs hallway, trying his best not to wake anyone with the unavoidable creaking of the old floorboards, when he heard the muted sound of sobbing coming from behind the first door on the right. Maggie's room. He paused and cocked his head towards the door. He hoped the sudden cessation of creaking floorboards hadn't alerted her to his presence. But the sobbing continued, and Daryl knew that she was fully enveloped in her own world of pain and loss. He was at a loss for what to do. He wasn't one for comforting crying women, but the idea of ignoring those forlorn sounds coming from behind Maggie's door seemed inhuman. Slowly, he raised his fist up to the door, rapped gently on the wood with his knuckles. His knock was so hesitantly quiet he thought it practically imperceptible, but apparently she had heard because the sobbing suddenly broke off. He listened raptly for any further sign of her notice, but there was nothing for the next couple seconds.

Feeling awkward, he whispered through the door. "Maggie?"

No response. He figured he should probably leave it at that, that at least he had maybe knocked her out of her depressed reverie. But he wanted to be sure she was all right. Maggie wasn't exactly the crying type herself.

"Maggie?" he whispered, this time a little more forcefully. "Are you ok in there?" He felt like such a pansy. Of course she was ok. This was Maggie in there, not a scared little girl. But he knew that after Glenn, everything had changed for her. Even his own loss of a brother seemed incomparable to Maggie's loss. To find someone in this world the way it was now, someone who you could care about so much…well, it seemed like an impossibility. But Glenn and Maggie had done just that. Daryl had to admit that he felt two types of disbelief about Glenn's death. First, there was the shock of losing a friend. But second, there was the shock of seeing that impossible, against-the-odds relationship ended so unexpectedly and so finally.

He was about to give up, leaving Maggie to her own devices, and continue to his room, when he heard footsteps on the other side of the door. And suddenly his heart was hammering away inside his chest, and he wanted nothing more than to dart to his own room in avoidance of seeing her and speaking to her. But he _did_ want to see her personally to make sure she wasn't too upset, you know, that kind of upset that made people do something stupid…and then it was too late to even entertain the idea of scurrying away down the hall because she had the door open and was looking dead at him.

Her eyes were red-rimmed and still wet with tears, though she had obviously made an effort to wipe most of them off of her face. "Daryl," she said simply, seeming completely unsurprised and unperturbed by his intrusion. Her voice was low and a little bit scratchy.

As she continued gazing at him with the same frozen look of despondence, Daryl averted his eyes down the hallway. He glimpsed the door to his room just around the bend in the hall and wished he was behind it right now. Too late now. He looked back towards Maggie again, and he knew that his angst must be showing on his face, because her lower lip was now trembling slightly. He placed a hand against the doorframe, close to her face, and tried to put on his most comforting expression (he didn't even want to know what that probably looked like).

"Hey…Maggie…I just wanted to make sure everything was ok in there. I heard…" He felt like he was probably more embarrassed to tell Maggie he'd heard her crying than she would be to admit it.

Her eyes were brimming with fresh tears. "I know what you heard. I'm sorry, Daryl. I didn't mean to bother you. It's just…it being Thanksgiving night and all. It makes me think…" She breathed in deeply to avoid a sob that threatened to wrack her entire body.

"It's ok, Maggie," Daryl answered quickly. Here she was thinking she was disturbing him when he was the one who had interrupted her remembrances. "I just wanted to check on you. You sounded so…sad in there."

She wiped her eyes with the back of hand and sniffed. "Yeah. Well…"

He didn't know what to say. This had easily been the most uncomfortable conversation of his life. But she was back to that detached, melancholic look again, and he prepared his body to move away and escape down the hall. He drew his hand off the doorframe and shoved it into his front pocket, turning on his heels. As soon as he looked away, she said the words he hadn't even realized he'd been expecting until they crossed her lips, completely emotionlessly.

"Do you wanna come in?"


	2. Chapter 2

"Do you wanna come in?"

Daryl remained turned away for a moment. He liked to think there was a debate going on his mind, but in all honesty, he knew the inevitability of his decision. He was never what one considered a hot-blooded man. He could, and usually did, refuse advances because they always led to uneasiness later on. Especially in the world they all lived in now, it just wasn't worth adding that kind of complexity to his life. But at the same time, it had been awhile, and for the first time in a year (since Beth…), he felt that pleasant, smolder of anticipation deep in his belly. It was just a biological reaction, he knew. But it was there all the same, and as he felt Maggie's gaze on him, he couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to touch this woman, this particular woman who he had never had an impure thought about before. She had always been Glenn's…but she was so undeniably beautiful all the same…

He turned back to face her, having no clue what he would actually say, only knowing that the answer was yes, he wanted to go in. His eyes met hers, and the intensity they shared caused him to lick his lips, and then she was on him without a word spoken. Her arms stretched up to wrap around his neck, pulling his face towards hers, and then her lips were on his, and he tasted the salt of her tears when he opened his mouth to accept her tongue.

She took two steps backward, not relinquishing any strength from her hold on his neck, and he obediently followed her into the room, quietly pushing the door shut behind them. Shrouded in complete darkness now, he felt for her body, his hands landing on supple hips through her tank top. His touch elicited a fierce reaction in her, and she pressed her entire body up against his. She was running her hands through his dark hair, sending tingling shivers from the top of his head down to the base of his spine. He felt her hands drift back downwards to his neck and then his shoulders, and then she had one hand under his collar and grazing the skin of his upper back.

The thought of skin-on-skin contact with her completely inflamed him, and he was hard in a flash. Forcing her away from him was torturous, but he needed to get this jacket off, and this shirt, and her shirt…oh my god, at just the idea of seeing her naked breasts, he could feel his erection growing and rubbing insistently against the front of his pants. This unforeseen moment with this gorgeous girl…it just didn't seem real, yet it was so very, very real right now. He untangled her arms from around his neck, and she took a few steps back obligingly. He could barely see her outline in the darkness, but he could hear her breathing quickly, along with his own. Could the others hear them now? Ashamed to admit it, the idea only turned him on more.

He slipped his arms out of his jacket, and fumbled gracelessly with the buttons on his plaid shirtfront, letting out a couple huffs of frustration. But finally he got enough undone so that he could pull the shirt off over his head. At the same time, he saw Maggie move to do the same, and a pull more forceful than gravity had him walking towards her again. He grasped her hips and drew her against him, feeling the warm press of her large, soft breasts against his chest. He was the one to kiss her ferociously now and he wound her arms back around his neck. At the feel of her nipples hardening against him, he raised his hands from her hips, up the smooth skin of her sides, and partway in between their two bodies, so that each of his thumbs pressed gently against one. He flicked them lightly, and she let out a moan into his mouth that was so lovely he thought he might come right then just hearing it. Her head laid back, as she pushed her breasts into his hands.

Daryl was ready to give her so much more, but without warning, she raised her head and whispered, "Are you ready?" He could barely see her face, only the shimmer of her eyes, but he could feel the heat radiating from her body.

Oh my god, he was so ready. "If you can't tell I'm ready by now, you ain't been paying attention," he joked.

But instead of having the humorous effect he thought he would get out of her, she was quiet and she backed out of his arms. "Just…can we do this my way?" she asked hesitantly.

Daryl felt a sudden concern for her…and for himself, to be honest. Was this the right thing to be doing? He'd interrupted her in a moment of vulnerability, and now he was laying hands on her. Was he taking advantage of her? "We don't have to do anything you don't wanna do. I can go, no problem." God, it pained him to say those words aloud, and he dreaded her response now that he was so aroused.

Her hair bounced as she shook her head slightly from side-to-side. If her voice wasn't so sure and steady when she spoke next, Daryl might have felt compelled to walk away. "No. I want this. I need this tonight. Just do what I ask. Please." Only the last word sounded shaky.

Daryl had no clue what she was talking about, but if it meant they got to continue what they had started, then he would go with it. "Alright. Ummm…what do you need me to do?"

But she was already turning away from him towards the bed, and without a word, she placed both of her hands on one of the tall bedposts of the four-poster bed, reaching up towards the top. Her head was bowed in between her long arms, her hair covering her face. Seeing her in that pose, a fragment of comprehension entered Daryl's mind, only to be confirmed by her next words.

"Will you…take me from behind?"


	3. Chapter 3

"Will you…take me from behind?"

The phrase sounded so vulgar coming from Maggie's lips, but Daryl understood that she wasn't asking out of crudeness. I mean, how did someone ask, in an appropriate manner, that they not have to look at the face of the person they were screwing? He was almost insulted for a second. And then he saw her trembling form grasping that bedpost for dear life, and he only felt a deep sympathy for her, not untainted by a large dose of desire.

Instead of answering her with words, he came up behind her and ran his hands over her raised shoulders and down her quivering back. He stopped at her underwear, attempting to keep things moving deliciously slow. Her skin was so soft, but the muscles underneath were strong and toned from this new lifestyle of running and fighting and building and running again. He slid his hands around to her front, gently cupping a breast in each one. The sigh she released broke any tension that had built between them a few seconds earlier. Her back and neck arched and her head fell back as he kneaded each of her large breasts until all he was holding was her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. He worked them with his fingers until they were rock-hard and elongated. Deeper sighs began to leave her body and she spread her legs apart, pushing her buttocks back against his groin.

Daryl had become utterly immersed in caressing her soft, pillow-y breasts, but when he felt her edge back into him, back arched, he remembered that there was so much more of her to explore. He spread his hands across her flat stomach, one dipping below the waistband of her underwear. She arched even deeper as he moved his fingers through the nest of curls he encountered, two diving lower to part her outer folds. Now he was breathing heavily too, and he used his hand as leverage to pull her rear end tighter against the front of his jeans. She let out one muted cry when he delicately contacted her clitoris, so he knew to keep his fingers there, circling lazily. After a few slow circles, he slid his fingers down lower, his entire body moving forward to commune with her backside. His breath tickled her right ear and neck as his fingers slid through a liquid so warm and slick it felt like hot oil was seeping out of her. He used his middle finger to probe upwards until just the tip was inside of that secret well. She moaned as he pushed his finger deeper, and he held her upright by moving his other hand back to one of her breasts.

Her hips started moving with the measured rhythm of his finger, and Daryl buried it up to the hilt of his hand. She was so wet, with no barriers to him, and soon he would get to truly have her. It still felt like a dream to him, this whole situation, like he would wake up at any second with the most rigid morning wood of his life. Then she swiftly removed one hand from the bedpost and grabbed his with it, holding it steady, then emphatically pulling him out of her.

"Daryl," she whispered, head bowed, breathing heavily.

His name sounded like nirvana on her lips. He reluctantly placed both of his hands on her hips, still covered in the elastic of her underwear (which must be sopping wet by now, he thought. It took all his effort not to reach down between her buttocks and find out). "Yeah?" was the only weary reply he could manage.

He heard her swallow deeply before she spoke again. "I want you inside me when I come."


	4. Chapter 4

"I want you inside me when I come."

It was so awkward, this absolute rabid craving it was apparent that they were both feeling being tempered with a cheerless reluctance. For his part, Daryl was beyond desire. He wanted so badly to be satiated, but even more so, he wanted to please Maggie in whatever way she needed right now. He'd always been a provider for their group, but he'd never quite pictured himself taking that role to this level. Without another thought, without another word, he undid his belt buckle and then the front of his pants, letting them fall loose around his hips. He quickly reached down to untie his boots and pull them off before pushing his pants off completely along with his underwear. Finally set free, his erection throbbed, and he gave it a couple slow strokes, immediately regretting it because he was on the brink of coming before he even made it inside of her.

Attempting to cool off a little bit, he decided to go back to pleasing Maggie. She was waiting patiently, still with one hand high on the bedpost, but she'd moved her other hand down inside the front of her underwear, where his had been only a couple delicious minutes ago. The sight of her rubbing herself was not helping Daryl stay contained. He needed to be inside her urgently. He stood behind her again, gripping the elastic waistband of her underwear, his fingers gliding underneath, reveling in the feel of the naked skin of her hips. He started pushing her underwear down, and Maggie obliged by lessening the gap between her legs until they fell to the floor and she could step her feet out of them. She spread her legs for him again, and Daryl wished it wasn't so dark so that he could see the glistening pink of her folds from behind.

He had her by the hips again and he placed the length of his shaft between her buttocks, groaning at the contact. She pushed back towards him, and Daryl could feel her wetness against his scrotum. "Oh God, Maggie," he exhaled, feeling more like a wild animal than a man. "If you say no now, I swear I'm gonna kill myself. But I gotta ask. Are you certain about this?"

The backward movement of her buttocks against his shaft was answer enough, but he heard her whisper "yes" in a tone of ecstasy and impatience. He grasped his thick erection and placed the head between her slippery folds, guiding it into her entrance. She pushed back at him, perfecting their angle, and he slid into her slowly, savoring every inch as her walls enveloped him. She let out a long breath as he came to a hilt inside of her and stopped there for a few seconds, trying to maintain his composure. He finally felt like he was ready to move inside her without immediately finishing, so he started by pulling almost all the way out and then plunging himself back into her sheath, frustratingly slowly. He used her hips as an anchor, and she had the bedpost grasped in both hands again like a lifeline. He slid his right hand around her hip and found her clitoris, rubbing on it directly with his middle finger. She gasped and he rubbed harder, but kept his rhythm slow and languid. Her gasps became more frequent, and Daryl started pumping into her a little faster, pulling her back and down onto him with his unwavering finger on her clitoris and his left arm now wrapped around her torso, hand clutching her right breast.

His chest was tight to her back and he could feel both of their sweat mingling and gluing them to each other. They were cheek-to-cheek now, their breathing in rhythm. He could see that her eyes were squeezed shut and she started to whimper desperately. "Daryl," she cried out, "I'm gonna come." He gave her clitoris a few more strong, direct rubs, pulling her buttocks down against him, driving his shaft into her as deeply as it would go. As he felt her walls flutter against him when she came with a open-mouthed cry, he let that wave of heat and bliss overtake him too. He tried not to cry out too loudly as came inside her in what he was sure was the most immeasurable orgasm of his life.

Both of their legs were shaking when Daryl could finally begin to think again. "My God," was all he could think to say as he gradually slid his slippery shaft out of her soaking wet sheath.

Her whole body was trembling as she finally fully released the bedpost and turned towards him. He laid a callused hand on her cheek, feeling the dampness of sweat at her hairline. She put her hand over his and looked him in the eye, still breathing heavily. "Thank you," she whispered.


	5. Chapter 5

When Daryl woke up in his own bed the next morning, fully clothed, like he usually slept, the night before seemed more dream than reality. Lying on his back on top of the covers, he glanced down at the foot of the bed, and sure enough, there were his boots, lined up like usual and caked with dirt. His crossbow was leaning up against the small nightstand within easy reach of his left hand. The bedroom door was shut, displaying a poster of Jenna Jameson that Hershel had obviously never noticed when it was still his house. Shawn had kept this room pretty tidy. Daryl hadn't had to do much cleaning house (which suited him just fine; snooping around through a dead kid's stuff wasn't exactly his piece of the pie). But that poster of Jenna Jameson had stayed. Why the hell not?

The corner room was warm with late morning sunshine, but Daryl couldn't be too upset with himself for sleeping in for once. He didn't think he could be too upset about much of anything this morning. Lying there quietly, arms crossed behind his head, he tried to recount every luxurious detail from his night with Maggie. He felt like a stupid teenage girl while he was doing it, but a small smile crept onto his face nonetheless. The sound of dishes clamoring downstairs in the kitchen interrupted his reverie, only to replace the previous visions with new ones of Maggie's face being lit up by the sun gleaming through the kitchen windows. Oh my god, he was being such a woman!

Truth be told, Daryl had never been more content in his entire life than he was now, even before the events of last night. Ever since they had found their way back to the farmhouse, cleaned it out, made it a home again, he'd been feeling pretty good. Everyday brought new challenges, like always, but so far, they had been things he and Rick and the others could deal with easily. Only a few walkers a month maybe wandered onto the property. They'd started growing some crops again, and even brought in some livestock. Daryl still went out a few times a week to hunt, but it was starting to feel less and less like a necessity. Of course, he still made runs out to the surrounding towns once in awhile. After all, there were some items civilized people had grown used to that you just couldn't grow on a farm.

With the warmth of the sun and the friendly noises coming from the kitchen below, it was easy to forget that they were in the midst of, well, essentially the apocalypse. It was strange to think that this last six months was probably the closest to a normal family life that Daryl had ever experienced. It was easy to forget that it could all go to hell in a handbasket at any moment. He again thought of Maggie in a halo of sunlight, but this time with Glenn standing behind her, placing his hands on her smooth shoulders, leaning around to give her a kiss on the cheek. And then the image of Glenn's death splintered through his mind, and suddenly Daryl was swinging his feet off the bed and shoving his boots on. Now he remembered why he preferred action to thinking.


	6. Chapter 6

Maggie was scrubbing a pot ferociously in the sink when she heard footsteps behind her in the dining room. She wasn't going to look up; no matter what, she _wasn't_ going to look up. The pot was spotless by now, but she kept away at it with her rag, prickles of anxiety alighting on the back of her neck as the steps moved closer. She knew that she should probably turn around, could be a walker after all, but at this point, she figured death by walker would be better than facing Daryl Dixon this morning. The truth was, she'd used him. She'd known it when it was happening, and she knew it now this morning as guilt pooled in her stomach. Funny how problems with the opposite sex could take you right out of the zombie apocalypse and plop you back into high school in an instant. Maggie hadn't exactly been a saint before all this. She knew that look that nice guys got when they found out she wasn't in it for more than a night or two of fun…that puppy-dog, slightly shocked look, where they couldn't quite look you in the eye, and maybe they were even crying a little…oh lord, she hated that look…

Not that Daryl Dixon had ever been compared to a puppy dog in his entire life. But he was a nice guy. There probably wasn't anybody who would've said that before all of this happened, but there was no doubt in Maggie's mind that he would lay down his life for any of them, no questions asked. It suddenly occurred to her that maybe that was all last night had been to him too, a small offering on his part to quell her unhappiness. I mean, of course he obviously enjoyed it, but maybe he didn't really _want_ to do it…initially…and then he just felt bad for her. That made her feel even _worse_.

"Hey, Maggie." A woman's voice.

Maggie's shoulders relaxed and she pasted a smile on her face as she turned around. "Good morning!" Maybe a little too sprightly.

Sasha entered the kitchen and sat on a stool, resting her elbows on the counter next to the sink where Maggie was working. "Uhhh…you're happy this morning."

Maggie tried to play it off with another fake smile. "Well, it's just such a beautiful day out already. And I trust no problems overnight?"

Sasha yawned and stretched out dramatically, laying her head down on her arms. "Nope, nothing. Is it bad that I find that boring?"

Maggie smiled, genuinely this time. "Yep. You are insane."

Sasha played at thoughtfulness for a moment, and then they both laughed when she nodded in agreement. "Anybody else up yet?"

"Tyreese and Carl were both in for _food_ earlier, naturally. I gotta bring some of this over to Rick though. Carl said he's not feeling too good this morning." Maggie's voice lowered as she spoke of Rick.

Sasha said nothing for a few seconds, but stared out the window over sink. "No Daryl yet?"

Maggie practically dropped the clean dish she was currently drying, her hands going all butterfinger-y and those warm prickles creeping up her neck again. "No, I guess not. He may have been up before me though, and gone out. I don't know, you know him." All said while eyes determinedly avoiding Sasha's unsuspecting ones.

"True," Sasha replied simply. "I gotta talk to him about something. I mean, speaking of _crazy_ people…" She let off suddenly and stood up, as if she had said something inappropriate.

Shit. Did she know? Maggie's anxious prickles were getting worse by the second. "Yeah, he's, uh…he's Daryl." The guilty feelings were rushing back too. Just the idea of facing him at some point today was making her feel slightly nauseous. Maybe he had gone out to hunt or something, and he would stay away from the farm until after she went to bed. In fact, she would make a point to go to bed extra early tonight. She was pretty sure he hadn't left though. She really hadn't slept last night after their little…escapade…and she knew she would have heard him walk past her door again in the silence of the early morning. Ugh! Why was she getting so worked up anyway? Of course, it was bound to be awkward for a little while, but they'd all been living in such close quarters and been through so much together. Was bumping some uglies really going to change that much?

She knew the truth in her heart, though. The truth was that last night hadn't just been a nonchalant act on her part. She spent much of her waking hours forcibly pushing thoughts of Glenn out of her mind. She was doing it right now. When she didn't, when she let those thoughts creep through…any thought, happy or sad…the tears came. And with the tears came the inability to do _anything_. It was okay to be that way at night sometimes when she was just lying in bed anyway. But during the day, when things needed to get done, when a walker or a group of bad people could come by at any moment, she couldn't afford to be that way. And not for herself either, but for the group. If she was going to die, she would die fighting for her people. But sometimes it was so _hard_, so depressing. She did love these people, they were like family now…except they _weren't _family. Even in the prison, she had secretly felt very lucky. She still had her father, her sister…and Glenn. And now…all three were gone. And it was just her and a bunch of people who had been complete strangers a year ago. And it had been nice last night to feel, for just a small time, that she had someone who loved her again.


	7. Chapter 7

Daryl tried to feel relaxed as he descended the stairs. He had no clue what kind of reception he would get from Maggie, but he wanted to be prepared for anything. No matter what, he didn't want to look like last night had affected him in any way. He would feel slightly bad about his nonchalant appearance on the off-chance that Maggie actually greeted him warmly. But knowing her, he figured that she would most likely pretend nothing had happened. She'd remained emotionally removed from the rest of the group since Terminus, and he couldn't blame her. How could any of them approach her and speak with her honestly when the hurdle of Glenn's death was such an insurmountable, unspeakable hurdle? Daryl wasn't much of a talker, and he was fairly content to sit in silence with others, but even he felt awkward around her. The perpetual sadness in her eyes begged for words of comfort, but any words he might speak seemed trivial and incompetent compared to what she (what they all) had seen.

At the bottom of the stairs, he turned into the dining room, and thank God, there was Sasha. He was so relieved by her presence that he almost failed to notice Maggie right next to her at the sink. But when he did take the time to look at her, she appeared just as he had imagined, with the sunlight falling across her shoulders. She was wearing an old T-shirt with the neckline cut out, so that it hung off one shoulder and he could see her bra strap. He wanted to run a finger under that bra strap and over her smooth white skin. He felt like a lecherous ass for thinking it.

Sasha did a half-turn on the stool she was sitting on to face him, speaking with a broad smile on her face. "Ah! There he is. We were just talking about you, your ears must've been burning."

Maggie's neck whipped around, her large eyes even larger. She looked a little surprised, but not enough that Daryl suspected their discussion had been about his activities last night. He felt mostly relieved, but also a bit disappointed. Didn't girls talk about that stuff with each other? Probably not if they were feeling embarrassed and regretful…

He quickly dropped his eyes from Maggie's to the floor, reaching to scratch the back of his neck with one hand. "Hey. Sorry I slept in a little bit. Didn't mean to be passed out while you ladies were doing all the work down here."

Sasha replied lightly, "No problem. You pull more than your fair share of the weight around here, Daryl. None of us begrudge you a few extra hours of sleep. Right, Maggie?"

Maggie had already turned back to face the window over the sink. "Yeah, of course not," she said, shoulders shrugging.

Daryl couldn't help himself. And without her eyes on his face, he felt bolder. "What were y'all talking about?"

"Nothing really," Sasha said. "I just need to talk to you about something. I'm just gonna grab a plate of these eggs and I'll meet you out on the porch. I'll get a plate for you too, don't worry."

Her tone was jovial, but Daryl could tell his presence on the porch wasn't up for discussion. Slowly, he turned on his heels and went to the front door, opening it carefully (just in case, always just in case). It really was a beautiful morning. From the front porch, he could see all the way across the green valley that was situated to the east. Hard to believe that somewhere out there was Atlanta…and a whole mess of walkers. He scanned the horizon, but saw not a hint of movement beyond the normal flights of birds and waving of high, untended grass in the morning breeze.

Sasha walked through the door a few minutes later and handed him a plate of scrambled eggs and toast with a fork. He took his with a thanks, and they both sat in rocking chairs and ate in silence. Finally, Sasha finished and cleared her throat, placing her plate on a small table next to her chair. Folding her hands in her lap, she craned her neck to look directly into his unwilling eyes. "So? You still thinking about going?"

Daryl was taken aback. He'd actually forgotten their conversation from the night before. I mean, it wasn't that unexpected, considering his time with Maggie later on, but still, he had had a pretty significant talk with Sasha. He sighed deeply, trying to return to his frame of thought before last night. He'd felt an emptiness, but not like boredom or apathy. He'd been feeling that way since they had gotten the farmhouse back into sorts. It was more like he just wasn't distracted anymore. Memories had started to sift back into his brain, memories of Beth. Shame crept upon him every time he thought of her face or her name. He had never found her…none of them had found her. They had left Terminus and made their way back to the one place they could think of, this house. And no one had mentioned her name aloud since then. Maggie had asked him about her once in the train car after she had found out they had escaped the prison together. He had told her the truth, and she had nodded and looked to Glenn, and that had been the last time any of them had spoken of Beth Greene.

He knew the odds of finding her alive were next to none (and the odds of finding her dead weren't much better), but…they had never looked. They had all been playing house here, and Beth was somewhere out there. What if she was alive? And Lord knows what she could be going through? And they were all hanging out in rocking chairs eating scrambled eggs, and they weren't even _talking about_ trying to find her? Daryl had just about made up his mind last night to go out on his own. He couldn't live with the guilt anymore. It had been his fault she was missing in the first place, and it was his duty to find her one way or another.

But now there was Maggie. And he wasn't fool enough to believe that one night changed anything, and a relationship with Maggie Greene was the furthest thing from his mind. Yet…he wanted to touch her one more time before he left. If he was being completely honest, he hadn't really expected to return from this venture. He wasn't feeling suicidal; he just knew he didn't want to come back to this farmhouse and this life until he found out Beth's fate. And there were a lot of things that could happen to a man in this world now. He thought of Maggie's smooth skin under his callused hands and the smell of her hair…and he knew he couldn't leave yet. Not anymore. Not if there was the smallest chance that he could have her again.

He looked into Sasha's searching eyes. "I don't think you have to worry about me leaving yet. A trip like that, it's gonna take some planning anyway."


	8. Chapter 8

"I don't think you have to worry about me leaving yet. A trip like that, it's gonna take some planning anyway."

Maggie pulled back quietly from where she stood inside the front door. Out on the porch, Daryl and Sasha were talking, and she could hear them clearly through the screen door. Her heart had leapt into her throat when Daryl mentioned going back out into rural Georgia. She knew why. She knew the only possible reason why he would go. Daryl was a lone wolf, but he wouldn't leave them without a _real_ reason, especially not with Rick in the condition he was in. Maggie didn't know what kind of relationship Daryl and Beth had had at the end (she preferred not to think about it honestly), but she knew that Daryl had grown to care deeply for her sister. That _had_ to be it. Finally! Finally someone would go. Since they'd reached her family's farmhouse, her sister's presence (or really, her absence) had haunted Maggie. She hadn't yet stepped foot into Beth's room, which had been taken up by Carol and Judith. Seeing of all of Beth's things was just too much to handle. Everyday, she kept incomplete images of Beth from her mind.

It made no sense, but Maggie had this one awful picture in her mind that prevented her from even thinking about going inside that room; in fact, it made her pick up her step when she walked by. She could barely admit the thought into her brain without wanting to gag, much like how she felt when sudden images of her father's and Glenn's horrendous deaths flashed through her daydreams and nightmares. It was no use to think such things, things she couldn't possibly know to be true, but Maggie felt the horror all the same when the thought came to her. She was just certain…_certain_…that if she opened that bedroom door, she would see Beth's corpse in there, hanging from the ceiling, eyes staring, mouth open…and then it would move.

She squeezed her eyes shut tightly, grimacing, willing the terrible image away, back into the corner of her mind where she hid the things that would otherwise prevent her from staying strong. Sometimes she felt like there wasn't much left to go on for. But deep, deep, deep down under all those horrible thoughts, was the one thought, like Pandora's box, that remained to give her hope. She hadn't allowed herself to give life to it yet, but in her daily despair, it had seemed like a more viable option everyday.

She slunk backwards silently, away from the front of the house, and back to the kitchen. She quickly plated out food for the rest of the group, determined to speak with Daryl as soon as she could catch him alone.


	9. Chapter 9

Daryl was out chopping wood behind the house when she finally approached him. He'd known that sooner or later she would. He'd heard those same footsteps drifting away from inside the doorway after he'd finished talking with Sasha. He knew Maggie had heard what Sasha had said, about him maybe leaving. He'd figured she would have something to say about it, one way or the other. He just wasn't sure, after last night, if she would ask him to stay…or encourage him to leave. His heart took a sudden lurch at that last thought. It wasn't necessarily that he expected her to fall for him all of a sudden or anything. But the thought of anyone in the group not wanting him there…well, it was too close to his old life with his old family. If she asked him too, though, he would oblige. It was her home after all, and he didn't want her uncomfortable there after everything she'd been through. He'd be ok on his own.

"Daryl," he heard as she tried to get his attention in between strikes of the axe.

He leant the axe up against his growing woodpile and turned to face her, keeping his expression as blank as he could. Sweat dripped from his forehead and he wiped it away with the back of his arm. "What's up?"

Words rushed out of her mouth. "Daryl, I heard you with Sasha earlier. I know you're thinking about leaving to find Beth."

His head jerked back with surprise. Neither he nor Sasha had said anything on the porch specifically about Beth, probably unconsciously to avoid this exact situation. "Beth?"

Maggie crossed her arms across her chest. "Don't pretend that's not why you were gonna leave." Her eyes burned into his.

Was he sensing anger? "Yeah, well, I _was_ thinking about it, but it's still up in the air, you know? It ain't that simple."

"Of course I know it ain't that simple. Why do you think I haven't gone yet?"

The question caught Daryl unawares, but it shouldn't have. Of course she would have considered going out to find her sister at some point. After all, there was no proof Beth was dead. Hard to imagine otherwise at this point, but there it was. "Maggie…the chances that I can find her…they're pretty much zero." He despised himself for the look he saw in her eyes at that, but he continued. "I mean, I just kind of wanted to get outta here for a little while. Looking for Beth, it ain't just an excuse, I'm gonna try. But I don't hold out a lot of hope." And his cards were on the table. She knew he had been looking for a reason to go. And now he dreaded that she would present him with last night as his reason.

Maggie sniffed and dropped her gaze to the ground. He couldn't believe it; she was crying again. Twice in 24 hours. She was usually so together. When she spoke after a couple of seconds of kicking at dirt, she looked him in the eye and her voice was steadier than he expected. "It doesn't matter. If we find her or not. It only matters that we tried. She's my sister."


	10. Chapter 10

"It doesn't matter. If we find her or not. It only matters that we tried. She's my sister."

"Maggie…" Daryl stopped himself, and took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. He crossed his arms over his chest, kicking up specters of dry dirt with a boot toe, trying to avoid seeing those red-rimmed eyes again.

But she wasn't looking at him now. She was looking out towards the west as shafts of sunlight traveled through cottonball clouds, painting the hills in golden patterns. "Daryl, I need this." Her lower lip trembled slightly, and she bit down for control.

He raised his eyes, peering at her thoughtfully. She stood tall and strong, shoulders set determinedly, her chin lifted as she continued to look away from him; but her face betrayed her anguish. Daryl couldn't stand that look. Maggie had always been one of the strongest of them. Her current state just served to remind him of everything that had changed since Terminus. They were in such a good place. So many of them had survived. But nothing could fill the dark abysm of those they had lost. And he knew it couldn't last, the peace they had found here and now. There would always be something. Walkers, disease, starvation, other assholes…no, this was just a temporary reprieve. What would happen to them all? Dying one by one. Rick was so sick…Daryl was fairly certain he wouldn't make it to this summer.

Seeing Maggie like this worried Daryl more than he cared to admit. She was slowly leaving them all. It itched at him. In that moment, seeing her standing there crying and looking over the Georgia landscape like it was the gateway to heaven, Daryl awoke to the realization that the reason he'd been wanting to leave, possibly never to see any of his friends (family) again, these people who he would lay his life down for…was because he didn't want to be there to see the shit hit the fan once it inevitably happened again. He didn't want to be a witness to this slow unraveling. Fighting was easy. It was fast, over and done with, winners and losers. But they were all really losers now, weren't they? This world was never going to be right ever, ever again.

He didn't know what to do. I mean, really, it didn't matter anymore. He could take Maggie, and she might die out on the road; they might both die by any number of causes out there. Or he could leave her here, and she could die of goddamn pneumonia in a month, or whatever the hell Rick had.

Or he could stay with her here. And he might find an ounce of happiness in this new crappy world. If she would be willing to give that to him, to both of them. "Maggie. I didn't mean to get your hopes up or nothing. I hadn't even thought this through properly. I was just, you know, bouncing the idea off of Sasha, see how crazy she thought I was." He stared at the dirt again, feeling too repentant to look her in the eye. "I don't think I'm gonna go…"

At that, Maggie turned to face him, sniffing. "Why? You deciding to be a coward all of a sudden?"

He knew she was speaking from a place of pain, and that she was just trying to get a reaction out of him. But her words sliced through him just the same. A coward? Not exactly the impression he intended to give her right now. Here he was making decisions in order to possibly get closer to this girl, and instead he was driving a wedge between them over an issue that hadn't even been something she'd been aware of a day ago. Fantastic… A day ago, Daryl probably wouldn't even have given a rat's ass about Maggie Greene's opinion of him, and now he was judging himself poorly by her emotionally driven response. This is why in his previous life, he'd preferred not to listen to any female opinion on anything.

He looked her dead in the eye. "Well, maybe I am being a coward, but I sure as shit ain't taking you out there in those woods. Not after everything this group's been through. I'll put myself out there maybe, but I ain't taking anyone else with me, no way."

The anger went out of her. Maggie might be an emotional wreck right now, but she wasn't mean or stupid. "You know I didn't mean that."

Daryl picked the axe back up from its place against the woodpile. "Uh huh," he grunted, turning his back to her. He heard her quickly stride up behind him, and he knew it was coming before he felt her place a warm hand up and under the hem of his flannel shirt, grazing the skin of his right hipbone above his leather belt. His whole body tingled from a blaze that started deep in the pit of his stomach…and from that little spot near his groin she was caressing right now.

He still had the axe in his hand, but let the blade settle into the dirt. "What are you doing?" he managed to gulp, looking at her sideways as she moved closer to him, yet still not touching him anywhere else.

"Daryl, I didn't mean that. You know all of us here owe you everything." Her voice was still a little ragged.

Daryl looked down at where her tan wrist disappeared under his shirt, then purposefully into her eyes. "_You_ don't owe _me_ anything, ok?" And great, now she looked like he was being reproachful of her, which he guessed he was. Was she really trying to trade sex for a free trip to wilderness territory with him? Whatever she was doing, she was continuously reminding him of the type of guy he was definitely trying never to be, ever again. The warmth that had flooded his systems a few seconds ago instantaneously abated.

Thankfully, she withdrew her hand and backed away, leaving only the awkward atmosphere between them. Daryl didn't turn to look back at her, but when she spoke, her voice was stronger. She seemed to have snapped out of her desperate attitude and now just sounded completely embarrassed and flustered. "I'm sorry. Really. Daryl, I'm so sorry. About last night…"

His shoulders drew up a little bit at the mention of the night before, but he didn't speak.

"I'm not ready to talk about it yet. But I didn't mean it like that last night, like how you just thought I meant…that. I…uh…I don't know. I don't know how I meant it, but it wasn't that I thought I owed you something. I'm so sorry if I hurt you last night…or today. I'm so sorry." And with that, she was gone, fled around the corner of the house.


	11. Chapter 11

Daryl saw Maggie one more time that day, at dinner with the rest of the group. He took his usual place at the foot of the table, directly across from Rick. Flanked on either side by Carol and Tyreese, he relished the buffer zone their presence created between Maggie and himself. Carol still held Judith on her lap everyday when they ate, and between the baby's table-slamming and ecstatic noises and Tyreese's booming laughter, he was distracted from fixating on Maggie all through the meal. Rick was in good spirits tonight too, which was a nice turn of events. Carl and Michonne sat on either side of him, making sure he was eating enough and keeping him smiling.

Daryl felt a flurry of different emotions whenever he looked at Carl. On the one hand, he was deeply saddened, thinking of the kid losing another parent. This sickness was so slow to work its harm on Rick. Was it better for Carl to have this remaining time with his father or was it just harder to witness the downward spiral? On the other hand, Daryl was kind of awed by Carl. When he had been that age, he could probably shoot and fight about as well, but he certainly didn't possess this kid's wisdom and strength of character. He knew Carl would be the best of them in the end.

Daryl couldn't help himself from glancing Maggie's way once in awhile. She looked so beautiful sitting there next to Michonne, candlelight glinting off the hair framing her face. Daryl could tell that she was making a good-faith effort to be cheerful with the others, smiling the whole time, talking animatedly and laughing. But he also saw her looking down at her plate disinterestedly, pushing her food around without eating much of it. She never once looked over at him.

The last sliver of orange was on the horizon when everyone was finished up with dinner, and Daryl grabbed his crossbow from its place by the front door before heading out to the porch. He wasn't sitting out there ten minutes before the screen door opened again with a squeak and Carl was leading Rick out and to the chair next to Daryl.

"Hope you don't mind if I join you for a little bit tonight?" Rick asked, his weakened voice still managing to sound of good humor.

"Course not, Rick."

Carl turned to go back inside, leaving Rick with a "Just yell if you need anything, Dad."

"Will do, son," Rick responded, nodding. Then he stared out over the porch railing at the fading horizon line, face emotionless and pale.

Daryl didn't know what to say, so he said nothing. To his shame, he knew that he hadn't been spending enough time with Rick, this man who had called him brother. It was easier to just avoid it, he guessed; find ways to keep busy around the property rather than sitting and talking with his dying friend.

Rick broke the silence first, like Daryl expected he would. "Haven't made it out here enough."

"Hmm. Yeah, well, the weather ain't been too good lately. Not exactly the season for porch-sittin'."

Rick turned his head to look at Daryl, a sad half-smile on his face. "Yeah, well. I don't think I have too many seasons left for it."

Daryl shook his head slightly. "Don't say that, Rick. Just…don't say it."

Rick took a deep breath, drawing air into his deteriorating lungs. "You got anything else you wanna talk about? It seems like something's off with you lately."

"No more than anyone else here."

"Nah, Daryl. I can tell. I can see the cabin fever getting to you. Is that it?"

"Cabin fever?" Daryl contemplated for a few seconds. "Maybe that's part of it. Just worried I guess. It can't stay like this, you know?"

"I know, I know." Rick stared at his boots. "Maybe you just need something to hold onto here. It might not stay like this forever. But for now, things are good. You should enjoy it. I know you and Carol used to…have a thing. Have you thought about that again? I know she likes you."

Daryl tried to stifle that laughter that Rick's suggestion produced, and then Rick laughed along with him, though not for the same reason Daryl was laughing.

"Yeah, here I am, being the dad, giving girl advice in the apocalypse."

Daryl shook his head, still unable to maintain a straight face. "I need it."

"Well, you should go after her then. Might bring you both some happiness. Just no more babies, right?"

"Right, right. No more little ass-kickers."

They sat in silence for a minute or so, and Daryl was pretty sure Rick was thinking of Lori, thinking of how soon they would be reunited. Suddenly, Daryl wanted to share something with this man, something real. Everyone tiptoed around him now, always smiling, no bad news, nothing raw. But Rick was still his best friend, and Daryl wanted to treat him like that, not like a man about to draw his last breath. "I'm gonna tell you something, Rick, but by all that is holy, you cannot say a word to anyone else."

"Ok." Rick's eyes looked worried.

Daryl swung almost all the way around in his chair to look through the window behind him and behind the screen door. Coast was clear. "I slept with someone last night. Not Carol," he whispered.

Rick's worried face switched to intrigue and amusement in an instant. "No shit?"

"Yeah, no shit."

"Well, I don't want you breaking any promises, but I'd definitely like to know who."

"You can't say anything," Daryl said vehemently.

"On my honor." Rick was actually laughing at him a little bit.

"Yeah, alright." He double-checked the window before leaning all the way over to Rick's chair. "It was Maggie."

Rick's eyes widened in honest surprise. "Maggie?"

"Shush! You're so goddamn loud."

Now Rick was really grinning. "Holy shit, brother. I was thinking…" lowering his voice to a whisper "…Sasha. But Maggie? Wow. How'd you swing that one?"

"I didn't swing anything. _She_ swung at me."

"I'm seriously impressed. And seriously worried about your ass now, Daryl."

Daryl scowled. Did Rick actually think this was hilarious? He guessed everything about the world could be seen as humorous to a man about to leave it. "No kidding. She's all kinds of outta sorts right now."

Rick's levity lessened a bit at that. "Yeah, I know. She's had it the worst of all of us, I think."

"She just totally came onto me. And of course, like a fool, I went with it. She's a perfect ten after all. It's not like I had supermodels knocking on my door before all this."

Rick nodded in appreciation of that fact. "But you don't think she meant anything by it?"

"I know she didn't. I know she was just missin' Glenn. _I_ miss Glenn. And now I've gone and done this with his girl. What the fuck?"

Rick laid a trembling hand on Daryl's arm. "Daryl. Glenn's dead. You're not. Don't beat yourself up about this. If she truly came onto you like that, well, any single man would've done what you did."

"Yeah, but now she won't even look at me."

Rick took a moment to think on that. "She'll get over it."

"What if she doesn't? She's mad at me. I can't stay if I'm making people…uncomfortable."

"Listen, Daryl. She made _you_ uncomfortable, ok? You're not going anywhere. You're one of us and always will be. This'll pass, she'll come around, and you'll both forget it ever happened."

Not likely, not with Maggie Greene.


	12. Chapter 12

**The smut is back. You're welcome...or sorry...**

Long after Rick and the others had gone to bed, Daryl remained on the porch, restlessly keeping watch over the farm. He was always grateful for the fact that he didn't need much sleep to function, but tonight he was itching for Sasha to come relieve him of duty so he could get to bed. He wasn't going to lie to himself; in the quiet darkness, left to his own thoughts, they had drifted back to Maggie. He felt a like a perv fantasizing about her in his mind, but he just couldn't eliminate the mental images of her unclothed body. After all, she'd let him put his hands all over her last night and more. What could it hurt to revel in daydreams, especially since it seemed obvious that the real thing wouldn't be happening again? He wanted to pretend at least one more time, before the images faded for good.

He was glad for the darkness when Sasha did finally tiptoe through the screen door, allowing it to gently sway back into place on its hinges. Daryl stood up quickly, hoping his jeans and the nighttime gloom adequately hid his semi-hardness. Unlike last night, he didn't stay to speak with her, and she seemed content with a mutual nod before settling into the rocking chair he had just been occupying. Daryl mimicked her quiet actions entering the house, but he wasn't so delicate making his way up the stairs. Goddamn those squeaky stairs!

When he got to his room, he sat on the bed to pull his boots off and noticed with some surprise that his hands were actually shaking a little bit. He'd never dared to think of another woman in their group in this manner, not even Carol. It had always felt wrong, like a betrayal of privacy. It still felt wrong now, but he _needed_ it. After more than a year of celibacy, he felt like this one incident with Maggie had reignited something in him, something that he couldn't define as good or bad. It wasn't just lust. That he had satisfied routinely enough (_thanks Shawn, for the Jenna Jameson poster_). It was more like a soul-searing hunger. It occurred to him suddenly, as he laid down, unbuckling his belt, that in all the mayhem and melancholy, he had unconsciously accepted the fact that he would never have another woman. How bad did the world have to get for a good ole boy like him to take a vow of chastity and not even realize it? Before the world went to shit, he'd been like every other man, sex crossing his mind every 24 seconds or whatever the number was. He guessed he'd been a little preoccupied with staying alive instead.

He unbuttoned his jeans and pulled his fly down. His hard-on bulged against the fabric of his underwear, and he slowly lifted the elastic waistband over and down, exposing the round head. He glided his right hand beneath the fabric where it still covered his shaft and grasped himself fully. Trying to stay unhurried, he stroked upwards once languidly, and then massaged his slit with his thumb. He pictured Maggie from behind like she had been last night, her legs spread, buttocks hoisted into the air. He remembered laying his cock right in between her quivering cheeks and let out a shaky breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. He was so hard already that he knew if he forced it he could come right then. But he wasn't ready. He wanted this to be the best orgasm he'd ever given himself.

_Fuck it_, he thought. He always slept with his clothes on just in case, but he could put them back on afterwards. He wanted absolute freedom for this. He yanked his shirt off over his head and pushed his jeans and underwear further down, finally kicking them off completely. Now, lying naked on the bed, he looked down at his engorged cock and took the shaft in both hands this time. He maintained his slow stroking, moving up and down his entire length. With every downward stroke, he pictured impaling himself in Maggie's moist sheath up to the hilt. When he reached his root, he allowed his lower fisted hand to bring pressure against his swollen sack, trying to recreate the feeling of her straining back against him. He was so back in that moment that he could practically hear her moans of ecstasy. The intensity of her climax last night had brought Daryl a certain sense of pride, and now it served to arouse him to that final stage of pleasure.

He let his knees fall apart slightly, arching his back into the mattress to raise his pelvis upwards. His two-handed stroke had increased in speed and pressure as he felt the penultimate waves that signaled the inevitable final release. His breath was hitching in and out, and he suppressed the groans he so desperately wanted to make. Imagining Maggie's shudder of release and the subsequent spasms of her tight sheath around his throbbing cock was what finally sent him over the edge. His shaft twitched violently in his hands as he ejected one load almost up to his chest. Unable to stifle it completely any longer, he let out a muffled groan as he ejaculated a second time, a little bit less.

It felt like hours before Daryl could move again, though in truth it had only been a couple minutes. He finally released his softening cock and took a few deep measured breaths. He couldn't see very well in the dark, but he was pretty sure he'd made a mess of things.


	13. Chapter 13

**Gonna be honest, not too much excitement in this chapter, but I felt I owed it to Maggie to show what I thought she would be thinking the next night, considering I laid it all out on the table in the last chapter from Daryl's POV haha...ummm planning on adding a little more of a ****plot line in the next few chapters to keep things from getting too cerebral and angsty. Thanks for the reviews, guys!**

Maggie lay curled up on her side in bed, trying not to think of what she had done the night before and failing miserably. Every time Daryl popped back into her mind, a wave of nauseous regret punched her in the gut, followed by a second wave of guilt for feeling that way. She hated herself for doing it, hated herself more for basically offering to do it again at the woodpile. What had come over her? Taking a step like that so recklessly, committing an act that could never be taken back, never be undone.

She'd craved male attention her whole life. It wasn't the first time she'd slept with a man with no intention of doing it again. But that had been in the time before, when the worst that came of it were some uncomfortable glances across the college cafeteria. She hadn't loved herself for it back then, but she'd never been ashamed of it, only annoyed by the subsequent awkwardness. Before Glenn, she'd never really viewed anyone as romantic potential. She considered herself an independent woman. An independent woman who liked to get laid once in awhile, but with strings completely unattached. It was easy when she was surrounded by a campus of hundreds, even thousands of men, to separate herself, move on to the next, and never have to look the past in the eye again.

When she finally looked Daryl in the eye today, feeling that insane hopefulness about going out to find Beth, she could see what he felt too. She could see the hurt. He probably thought he hid it well, as silent and abrupt as he was since the prison. But the man's face, his whole body, was an open book. After growing up constantly disappointed by those around him, he had developed this "I don't give a shit" look that was a dead giveaway. He had cloaked himself in that look all day, saying as little as necessary to not just her, but everyone else too. She felt sick at the thought that she had caused that for him. She didn't consider herself to be close with Daryl, rarely shared a one-on-one conversation with the man, but she knew how much it meant to him to belong here with them. She felt like she'd done much more than betrayed him as a woman. She'd taken their friendship, camaradarie, whatever someone would call this belonging that so intensely bound them all together, and just pissed it away. The man had the hardest exterior, but he felt the most out of all of them. And she hadn't even given a fuck about what he was thinking or feeling when she'd propositioned him. Just trying to get a little creature comfort, and now this…

At least he was good-looking. The ridiculousness of the thought made her laugh a little through her wretchedness. But back when alcohol was a big driver of her one-night stands, that could sometimes be a concern in the morning. Sure, Daryl was _not_ the type she would have gone for in college _at all_. He was usually pretty filthy. And when he did talk, his accent and lingo betrayed his back-woods upbringing. Her first impression of him, when Rick and his group had first arrived, was honestly one of total irritation. She respected his dedication to finding that little girl, Sophia (and there came another wave of guilt, for keeping that secret hidden in the barn); but he stole their horse, then proceeded to lose it in the woods, practically getting himself killed, causing her dad more stress and using up their medical supplies, and all while being ignorant and rude (and even kind of loud back then).

Contrasting the man he was now with the wild animal he had been before, she couldn't even overlay the two images into one person. Now, he was quiet and reflective, a tireless worker, loyal to a fault. And here she was, after sleeping with this man of whom she had so many good things to say, and she just couldn't feel anything except guilt and remorse.

No one could measure up to Glenn, whose innocence and honesty and goodness had opened up her own heart. He had made her realize that she may only have moments left in which to finally love a man, and that she desperately wanted to have that at least once in what could possibly be a very short life. She'd thought that was it. She'd honestly thought that she and Glenn would live together or die together. Nothing else, no other options. But what should she have done when Glenn died? Taken her own life? The thought had briefly entered her mind, but it had left just as swiftly. Not after all this, not after all this fighting to survive when so many others had died too soon and too pointlessly and too horribly.

She tried to keep that in mind when she thought of last night with Daryl. How many days did any of them have to live? Who would begrudge her what could possibly be her last roll in the hay? Really? But it wasn't working. First of all, things had been going so well for so long now. She certainly couldn't blame it on a sense of impending doom, a last-ditch, now-or-never feeling. Yeah, Thanksgiving dinner had been rough on her. It was hard to be grateful for…what? Still being alive while the rest of her loved ones were dead? And such a beautiful life, right? The farmwork was fine; she'd grown up that way, and if anything it was a comfort and distraction. It was the boredom that was killer. She'd read every book in the house. They all had by now. They'd scoured the town for supplies, anything they could find. Been through every neighbor's house, collecting items that might prove useful or just interesting.

And that was the key right there, wasn't it? She'd been bored. Out of her mind bored. So terribly bored for so long that she didn't even recognize the feeling anymore. It was just a part of her life. Nothing to look forward to anymore, except the normal agricultural cycles. Hell…Daryl had been entertaining, that was for sure. And he'd certainly enjoyed himself as well. The thought gave her a modest sense of righteous indignation. Feeling bad for a man who'd just gotten laid? Didn't make a whole lot of sense. She could finally drift off to sleep, feeling mildly justified in her actions.


	14. Chapter 14

He'd been staring at her for days now. Behind her back, figuring she didn't notice it. But she did. Maggie could feel his eyes skimming over her every time they had the chance. She went about her daily work, ignoring the feeling of being watched. At this point, she honestly wasn't sure if she was making it up or not. He certainly never said a word to her, so why should she be so sure of this obsession he had with her? _Obsession_. That was too awful a word to use, unfair to him. Daryl could be childish and single-minded at times, but he was his own man. He was always respectful, to everyone, not just her. And he had kept his distance, obviously sensing her discomfort. And wasn't she very aware that she herself had put him in this position? When she was in the same room with him, she felt naked, like every curve of her body was on display. Walking in front of him became a task, as she attempted to control every movement, no hip sway, nothing that would draw the eye of a man.

She wasn't sure how many days it had been since the night they had spent together, but he finally approached her. In truth, she was a little shocked. She'd been expecting him to talk to her again at some point, but within the a group conversation maybe, something meaningless that would just brush things over, say "I'm over it, let's move on." She didn't think he'd come to her personally, privately.

She was in the shed they kept the livestock in, collecting eggs, always trying to avoid stepping in shit. He knocked on the open doorframe, waiting outside silently. Maggie looked over her shoulder, saw it was him, and went back to her task or picking eggs out of the hay. She didn't know what to say to him, didn't exactly want to invite him in for a conversation.

He finally spoke softly to her back. "I'll take you."

She turned abruptly. "What?"

He shrugged his shoulders the way he always did when he was being asked a question. "I'll take you. To look for Beth. But you just have to wait."

She continued to stare at him in confusion. "Wait, what? What are you talking about?"

"You know what I'm talking about." He actually was starting to look a little annoyed with her. "Like how you asked before, when I was thinking about going to look for your sister. I wasn't sure then, but I thought about it some more. And I'll do it. It's the right thing to do."

She breathed in deeply, wiping her dirty hands off on her jeans, rotating her gaze to the ground. "Yeah. It is the right thing. Can't believe I waited this long."

He leaned heavily against the doorframe. "Well, no one could expect you to go out there on your own, but now you got someone to go with you."

She wasn't sure what to think. Here he was, offering to do the one thing that she should most want to do in her entire life, the thing that she had begged him to only days ago, but she was suddenly feeling very afraid. It wasn't like it was going to be that simple, walk for a few days and run right into Beth around the corner. No, it was risking much more than that. "Um. Yeah, that's really generous of you. But," and now she looked him in the eye, "are you sure this is worth it?" Her anxiety took hold and she spilled. "I just…I feel like this is hopeless really, you know?" And with that, she felt the tears behind her eyes again. How many times was she going to cry this week? Using all her might to hold them back, she grabbed the bucket she was storing the eggs in and brushed right past him out the door.

Seeming alarmed by her offhand touch, Daryl stumbled backward out into the sunshine. "Wait a second!"

Maggie kept on walking back to the front of the house.

He followed her and grasped her by the upper arm so hard she almost dropped the bucket. "Daryl!" she yelled, shocked as much by her own loudness as by his unexpected touch.

He didn't let go. "That's enough, Maggie!" he yelled right back into her face. "I don't know what you want from me! I'm trying here. Trying to leave you alone…'cause that's _obviously_ what you want. But I know you want Beth back more."

"Of course I want Beth back!" she spat back at him.

"Then why are you acting like this?"

Before taking a moment to think, she answered, "Because I don't want to go with _you_! I don't want you to think it's like that with us!"

He looked seriously shocked. "What are you talking about?"

"I know how you look at me, Daryl. And we both know what happened the other night." She slowed her speech finally. "But it can't be like that between us, okay? Never again. I made a mistake." She couldn't look him in the eye when she said it, so she just stared at the ground two feet in front of her.

He released his hand from her arm, backing away a couple feet.

And now the coming tears were obscuring her vision. "I'm sorry, Daryl. It's not you. I just…I still love Glenn." It came out as a sob.

He reached out for her again, awkwardly with one arm. Standing like a statue, she let him put his arm around her shoulders. After a minute more of soft crying, her shoulders hunched and shuddering, she felt him pull her in closer. She couldn't help but be touched by this man who was usually so stiff, and here he was trying to comfort her. He didn't say a word, but only stood there, letting her release. "I'm sorry," she said again, sniffing back the last of her tears.

"You don't have nothin' to be sorry for. Least of all, to me."


	15. Chapter 15

**Another short one, but I can't help myself. This stuff comes to me in little scenes one at a time, and I just don't feel like waiting to post them!**

At dinner that night, Daryl sat down in his usual spot at the far end of the table, but this time when he looked Maggie's way, she actually looked back at him, a very small appreciative smile on her lips. Her eyes were dry, no sign of her lingering sadness, and he felt content. He felt like things were back as they had been. Not as they _should _be necessarily. If things were as they _should_ be, then Glenn would be here. Beth would be here too. Rick would be well. But when he looked at Carol holding Judith, and Sasha bumping shoulders familiarly with Bob, he felt that age-old adage: _Life goes on_.

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She came out to the porch so late that at first he assumed it was Sasha coming to take over. But Sasha never lingered in the doorway so long, shuffling her feet anxiously. He looked over his shoulder at her and caught his breath despite himself. He couldn't help himself anymore. Since noticing how truly beautiful she was after that night, it was like the gates were open and the floodwaters were released. He couldn't believe it; Daryl Dixon actually had a crush on someone. It didn't help his heart rate that he knew exactly what she felt like all over; but he'd absolutely decided that he would respect her and never bring it up. _Ever_, he thought grudgingly.

"You wanna sit down?" he asked hesitantly.

She had her arms crossed across her chest against the cold autumn air and she gazed out into the night, shivering a little bit. "Nah, I won't be long. I just wanted to ask you…" She eyed him tentatively. "Did you mean it? About taking me out there to find Beth?"

He shifted uncomfortably. He hadn't been expecting her to get back on that train again. She certainly hadn't seemed very receptive to the idea earlier in the day. He would never understand women. "Yeah, I meant it. I told you I was thinking about going out before…on my own. But it's better with two of us."

She was still eyeballing him with that cynical look. "Yeah, but you said you thought it was pretty dim chances. And I know you were just looking for something to do really. You don't have to tell me otherwise. I know."

"Yeah, well, that's true and all, but…it's worth a shot, you know." He meant it honestly, and he could tell she knew it too when she nodded softly.

"What else do we have better to do?" She smiled, and Daryl couldn't understand how a smile could look so forlorn.

"You said we had wait though. Earlier, in the shed, you said you would take me, but I had to wait. Wait for what?"

Daryl contemplated speaking his true thoughts aloud to her. "For Rick. I can't leave now, not when he's like this. I gotta wait…one way or another."

Maggie nodded, staring at her feet. "You don't have to say anymore. I can understand that."

Daryl, usually so reticent, felt the need to say more though. He didn't want her to think he was putting her off now that she was really asking him for this favor. "It shouldn't be long. End of this winter most likely. We shouldn't leave till it warms up anyway –"

"Shhh, Daryl," she cut him off. "I know. I mean it, I understand." She gave him that smile again, and he couldn't deny that despite its sadness, he loved seeing it on her lips, especially when they were talking just the two of them. "I'm gonna go in now. It's cold out here. You should put more clothes on."

It wouldn't have even been a good innuendo for anything even if she'd meant it that way, but he still laughed internally at the thrill of Maggie discussing his state of dress (or undress) in any context.

She turned to go inside, but paused, looking back at him. "So we'll talk about this later? Get it all planned out?"

"Yeah, girl. Get your ass inside."

She left him with a real honest-to-god grin, and Daryl considered his work done for the night.


	16. Chapter 16

**It's been wayyy too long since I last posted. So sorry, I was sick, uninspired, busy, etc. etc. over the last couple weeks. But I'm back now!**

Over the next few weeks, Daryl and Maggie found themselves reverting slowly back to the way things had been before, but not quite. Maggie couldn't quite put her finger on it, but something was mildly different. They had a secret between them now, that was true. A secret that was both terrifying and exhilarating at the same time. This was it. They were leaving the group, going to search for her sister, whatever they might or might not find. She couldn't help herself. When she saw Daryl, she found herself trying to catch his eye, trying to maintain that contact, reassure herself that this was real. It wasn't that she thought Daryl would brush her off when the time came to go, but she just needed to feel certain. It felt so good to have something to do again, something to anticipate and prepare for.

Daryl himself was chivalry incarnate. He gave Maggie her space, but was always around to lend her a hand with things. Where before he had been most often found out in the woods, hunting what little game there was left or just passing time roaming around, now he was more often inside, not quite hovering, but just a new presence. She told herself it was just that the weather had turned quite a lot colder since Thanksgiving, but she knew the truth. He was just as tied up in their secret as she was.

Once he even touched her, so lightly she thought she might have even imagined it. It wasn't even when they were alone. They were in the kitchen with Sasha and Tyreese, laughing up a storm at something or other, and at one point, Daryl stood up from his stool to grab another drink from their communal moonshine jug. She was leaning against the counter where the jug was sitting, and he brushed her hip casually with his fingertips as he moved around her for the jug. It was so quick, so nonchalant, she knew rationally that he couldn't have meant anything by it. He didn't even seem to notice that he'd done it. At the same time, it was one of those offhand gestures of possession that a boyfriend would have made.

He poured his drink and returned to his stool, conversing with the others again like nothing had happened. They hadn't seemed to notice anything either. If they'd seen the touch, they hadn't thought anything of it. So why was she suddenly so confused? On one hand, she'd…_liked_ it a little bit, that feeling of being desired blossoming through her. And she knew Daryl desired her, she knew that she could have him again if she just went for it. But on the other hand, she felt aggravation. Never had she been the type of girl who relished being in a relationship. She didn't like feeling "owned", like some guy could just lay hands on her whenever and however he pleased. With Glenn, it had been different. She'd been in charge from the start, just the way she liked it. Then…well, things had gotten so crazy, being run off the farm, friends dying…he'd been a safe harbor for her when she couldn't hold herself together on her own.

This thing with Daryl was vastly different. She did need his help. She wasn't fool enough to believe that she would survive out there on her own. She was capable obviously, but only to a point. Daryl was a survivor on another level, a level she didn't think many other people from their previous world could even begin to comprehend. She still missed tv. She figured Daryl probably didn't even have a tv growing up. The man was eating squirrel for dinner (and enjoying it) thirty years before the first walker existed. Yet, despite her need for his future assistance, she didn't really need him right now. She liked talking with him about their plans, but she felt mostly flustered when he was around her otherwise. He rarely made any outward signs of it. But she knew he liked her…_that way_. And she didn't want to encourage him, but she certainly didn't want to upset him either and ruin all their plans.

The touch, though…she had liked it. She couldn't deny it. Her skin had prickled underneath her shirt right where his fingers had been for a brief second. Her breath had caught and held until he had moved well away from her again. She wasn't sure if she'd just noticed his smell right then at that moment, or if she'd known it all along, but she certainly became aware of it then. Leather, then something like soap, and underneath it all, that unmistakable musky smell that men gave off after working out or…sex… It wouldn't be bad to have him touch her again, maybe a little bit more purposefully. But she wasn't ready to consider taking it that far again, not even close to that far. She felt like she was in middle school again, craving a boy just to put an arm around her or hold her hand. But her world wasn't like that anymore, and truthfully it hadn't been like that since well before everything went to the walkers.


	17. Chapter 17

She and Daryl did most of their planning out on the porch at night when he was keeping watch. To be honest, there wasn't much to plan. They figured out pretty quickly where they would head first, to the funeral home where Daryl had last seen Beth. Maggie wasn't ready to ask anything more about his time there yet. She didn't like to think of what could have been Beth's last minutes on earth, didn't want to overanalyze anything Daryl might tell her and assume her sister's untimely demise. She also didn't want to know yet what might have happened between Daryl and her sister. She…just _couldn't_ think about that at all.

Most of the time, they talked about little things, about things from their old lives. Daryl was never that open, but he seemed to enjoy listening to Maggie tell stories about growing up on the farm. He'd even looked teary-eyed once in awhile when she'd talk about Hershel, but she thought she might be imagining that. After awhile, they'd usually settle into a comfortable silence until she finally found herself growing sleepy. Falling asleep was so much easier when she had a distraction late at night until exhaustion inevitably set in.

About a week before Christmas, the weather was unseasonably warm, and Maggie had stayed out later than usual, trying to enjoy every minute of it before it slipped by again. She must have drifted off to sleep because before she knew it, Sasha was waking her with a gentle shake on the shoulder. She fluttered her eyes open just in time to see Daryl's back as he entered the house. "Hmmm? Oh shit, what time is it?"

"Late enough that you get to see my smiling face," Sasha answered wryly. She yawned herself. "So much fun. Can't wait till we switch shifts after New Year's."

Maggie pushed herself to an upright position in her rocking chair. "Yeah, then I get night shift I guess."

"It looks like you already got night shift, girl."

Maggie swung her head around to Sasha in surprise. "What?"

Sasha had that look on her face, what did they call it? The "cat that got the cream" look, that was it. "Maggie. You're out here with Daryl almost every night now. You think the rest of us don't notice?"

Maggie tried to paste a look of dismissiveness on her face, and felt herself reddening instead. From fear that their plan to leave might be discovered or from embarrassment that the others would think they had a budding romance, she wasn't sure. "It's nothing," was all she could come up lamely.

Sasha shrugged her shoulders, eyes wide in amused speculation. "I wouldn't blame you."

"What?" Maggie couldn't help herself. The idea that someone else might find Daryl an alluring possibility was too tempting not to talk about. Besides, how often did she ever get any girl talk anymore? "You think Daryl's hot?"

Sasha bobbed her head contemplatively. "Kind of. In like a…rugged way. And I mean, he's got that whole 'come with me if you want to live' thing going on."

"Worst Terminator impression ever."

"Well, you know what I mean. He could take care of you. In more ways than one." She couldn't help herself, Sasha burst out laughing at that.

"Oh my god," Maggie groaned, but she was smiling. "Well. It's not like that."

"He does have a nice ass." Sasha tried to hold in her laughter, but was failing miserably.

Maggie balked at her. "You've looked?"

"Of course I've looked! There's not much else to look at these days!"

"What about Bob?"

Sasha settled a bit at that. "I love Bob. And Bob is my man now. But that doesn't mean I don't notice a little eye candy when it walks by me."

All Maggie could do was shake her head in amusement. She didn't trust her voice not to betray the awkwardness she was feeling right now.

Sasha reached a hand over to Maggie's. "Listen, for real, Maggie. If you like him, you should go for it. No one will judge you…because of Glenn. Okay? We _all_ loved Glenn. But we all love Daryl too, and we all love you. And we all want you to be happy, as much as that's possible these days." And then she apparently couldn't help herself: "And if that means tapping that good ole boy ass, then so be it."

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Laying herself down in her own bed that night, Maggie couldn't help dwelling on Sasha's words about Daryl. She didn't want to admit it to herself, but she felt somewhat validated. Of course, Sasha didn't know what had actually happened between her and Daryl that one night. But it didn't matter. Sasha would have approved of it. Hell, Sasha would have been excited for her! And she was right, wasn't she? There wasn't much else to look at these days, not much to enjoy. To truly enjoy…she hadn't felt pleasure like that in a long time.

She could almost feel him right now like he had been that night, strong arms enveloping her, callused hands hard on the delicate skin of her stomach. She lay on her side, imagining him pressing up behind her with his entire body, his breath tickling her ear. She placed her own hand on her stomach right where she would want his, pretending that it was. She felt so pathetic. For God's sakes, the man was right down the hall. She could have him in her bed right now if she truly desired. But she was afraid. She was afraid that he would have regained his wits by now, and not want her anymore. She was terrified that she would feel like shit in the morning again if she gave into what her body seemed to want. She just didn't trust herself. She was a rational person. She knew that biology sometimes caused you to crave physical attention. She knew that loneliness and desperation could mess with your mind. Things never seemed clear until the morning and then it was too late.

She decided to make herself an ultimatum, since she obviously had no idea what it was she really wanted. She would give herself until Christmas, five more days. If she still felt this way, then she would go for it, she would sneak into his room or something, she didn't even know. But she would accept it, give into it, try to enjoy it for what it was. But for now, she would sleep it off, assume it was just a moment of weakness or a moment of brashness because of Sasha's encouragement. She was sure she would be laughing at all this in the morning.


	18. Chapter 18

**And now I'm just apparently drawing out the inevitable...but it's not quite Christmas yet ;)**

Daryl didn't really know what to make of Maggie during the week leading up to Christmas. They'd been spending more time together because of their future trip, but if he was honest with himself, he felt that most of that time was actually spent becoming comfortable with each other rather than actually planning anything. He found himself enjoying her company not just because she was a stunner and she was paying attention to him, but just to have a partner again. It had always been he and Merle growing up. He hadn't realized what a hole had been left in his heart when his brother died until Maggie surreptitiously began filling it. He didn't even mind that she might only be using him. So had Merle. But better to be used by a pretty woman with noble ideals.

He just didn't understand her attitude towards him. She'd straight-up told him that she wasn't interested in anything more than this partnership, but all week, he caught her looking at him. Not exactly in a sisterly fashion either. In fact, she seemed to be checking out his ass…a lot. Whenever he caught her at it, she would quickly turn away, like she was just casually surveying her surroundings. But hey, if she wanted to look, Daryl didn't have a problem with it. He might be considerate of her requests for a platonic friendship, but he wasn't virtuous enough to not hope for more than that, even now.

On Christmas Eve, the group did much what they did at any major holiday now, which is to say, eat a lot and get powerfully drunk. Even Carl was allowed to partake nowadays. Guess if you were old enough to brain walkers, then you were old enough for a drink or five. Daryl kept sneaking glances at Maggie, who was putting back shot after shot of his special-made blackberry moonshine. He put back more than a few himself, maybe subconsciously sensing it, that this could be the night that he might stand a chance again…

When he got enough liquid courage that he didn't fool like a blithering idiot, he looked her dead in the eye across the dinner table. Amongst all the laughing and happy conversing, no one else noticed their shared look. A corner of Maggie's mouth lifted in a smile, and Daryl couldn't fail to notice the devilish look in her eyes as she put her glass to her lips for another swig. His stomach clenched, and he couldn't purposefully maintained a straight face. This was what he wanted, but he didn't really believe it to be possible. And she was drunk. He didn't want to take advantage of her drunk like that. But the more he drank too, the more that notion didn't seem so appalling.

They all moved into the study after dinner and Daryl didn't even flinch when Maggie plopped herself down on the couch next to him, one side of her body entirely pressed up against his own. She was still talking loudly with Sasha, and Daryl noticed that Sasha was giving the both of them some weird kind of looks. Like, very furtive glances that were obviously supposed to mean something to Maggie. Daryl suddenly realized, they had talked about this. The girls had actually been _gossiping_ about him, like high-school style. He didn't know whether he should be flattered or feel like a chess pawn to be moved at their pleasure. He turned his head to look at Maggie's profile. God, she was stunning, really just beautiful. And she was absolutely beaming right now, the alcohol relaxing her, opening her up. He didn't want to turn that around on her. He knew she'd feel differently in the morning.

But he just couldn't care. Not yet. He slowly moved his arm around behind her, laying it on the back of the couch, not quite touching her, but if she leaned back, her shoulders would fall right onto him.

She turned to him, that smile lighting up her face, and she took another quick sip from her glass. "You done drinking, cowboy?"

If he wasn't completely taken aback already by this side of Maggie, he was now. She was unmistakably coming onto him. And she was drunk as shit.

Nevertheless, when she sunk back against him, still looking up at him with those eyes, he tipped his glass up to his lips too. "Well, I can't let a lady drink by herself."

She took another sip, looking straight into his eyes. Despite the fact that everyone else was crowding up the room, the alcohol and that sultry look in her eyes was fogging everything else out of his mind. He could kiss her right now. She wanted him to, he could tell, her lips slightly parted. But he didn't want her like that, with the others were watching. He wanted her in private, where later on she could forget that this happened if she wanted, where she could truly let go and let this be.

Her head was resting on his shoulder now, and she was gazing up at him lustfully. He couldn't take it, the blatancy. He looked over at Rick sitting across from him in an armchair. Rick wasn't exactly looking at him reproachfully, but he knew what Rick would ultimately say if pressed for a comment. _She's drunk, Daryl_. It took him all his will to remove his arm from around her shoulders, but once he did, he felt more awake.

Now Maggie was the one looking at him with reproval. "Really?" she half-whispered at him. He hoped for her sake that no one else was really noticing how out of it she was.

"I'm going to bed, Maggie." He caught Sasha's eye as he stood up, staggering a little bit. She looked almost as confused as Maggie, but she said nothing, just got up and took his place on the couch next to her friend.

"Good night, Daryl," Maggie replied, sounding exhausted to the core and more than a little frustrated.

"Oh Maggie," Daryl heard Sasha say comfortingly in her amused tone before he headed up the stairs. He also heard a chorus of good nights in his general direction from the others, but nobody else seemed too upset to see him go while still in their festive moods. He took one last look back at Maggie, almost turned around, then thought better of it. His body was already regretting this, but his head knew better. If Maggie had forgiven him for taking advantage of her before, she wouldn't be able to do it a second time. He wanted her, no doubt about that, wanted her every time he saw her walk in a room now. All thoughts of her once belonging to Glenn had been pushed aside. Any new dynamic it might bring to the group wasn't even a consideration in his mind. But he wanted to be sure she wanted it too, or else it just felt wrong. Maybe he'd even confront her about it tomorrow, it certainly felt like a good and viable option right now while he was intoxicated. He didn't think he'd feel so brave in the morning, but he hoped he would. For the sake of this hot lust running through his veins, he really hoped so.


	19. Chapter 19

**Ummm so I went back and read my last chapter...and I fucking hated it. And I realized it was because I went with one of the fan fiction cliches that just make everything so fantastically unbelievable - getting the characters drunk so they feel uninhibited and get it on. I hate that when I read it in other fiction, and I now hate myself. I hope this chapter is better.**

Daryl walked downstairs with what he figured was probably a less raging bull of a headache than the others'. Carol confronted him immediately. "I got to take your shift last night," she said with slightly reproving look. "Both you and Sasha."

Daryl scratched his head uncomfortably. "Sorry about that."

"Don't worry about it. Just thought I'd let you know that _someone_ was holding down the fort."

"Thanks." He didn't really know what to say. Carol had a way of making him feel slightly wearisome these days. He knew that she'd taken a lot on her plate caring for Judith with Rick so sick and Carl not yet equipped to deal with a child of his own. But he never figured she'd begrudge the others their freedom like she did. He couldn't help but feel that it was mostly his fault, that she felt neglected by him. True, he'd formed a connection with her early on because of their similar backgrounds. He loved her, no doubt about it. But it had never been an attraction like that. He also hadn't realized that she had felt that attraction towards him. By the ways she joked with him, he always assumed she felt the same way about him as he felt about her – comrades in arms, but not lovers. And when Rick had revealed to him what she had done in the prison during the sickness, well, he just couldn't shake that from his impression of her now. She'd grown hard. Where before she had been a victim, now she was anything but; and she wasn't afraid to demonstrate that in any way she felt necessary. It unnerved him a little bit.

Suddenly, maybe driven by his obvious awkwardness, she gave him her old caring smile. "You know, it's pretty obvious that someone has a crush on you."

"What do you mean?" Of course he knew who she meant, but he wanted to hear it from someone else, for his own validation.

"Maggie. She was all over you last night. Couldn't you tell?"

He sighed, thinking about his reply. He didn't want to give Maggie away too much. She still seemed like she was in such a delicate position, though she was happier now with the upcoming trip being planned into reality. But it still set something tingling deep in his gut to hear another person say what he desperately wanted to hear. "Yeah, well, she was wasted."

Carol chuckled. "You know what they say. A drunk man's words are a sober man's thoughts."

Daryl couldn't help a small smile. "I wouldn't know what to do about it anyway even if it was true."

Carol looked very much like a mother when she spoke to him next. "Daryl. I know you care for her. You care for all of us, and we all care for you the same. There's nothing wrong with it if that's what you want."

"I gotta talk to her today anyway. Guess she's probably hungover as shit."

"Nope. She's outside. You don't give her enough credit apparently."

Daryl laughed. " She is Hershel's daughter I suppose."

"I wouldn't say that to her. Of all the things she wants to remember about her father, I doubt his drinking is one of them."

He grunted in agreement. "Guess I'll head out then."

"Be brave, Daryl."

Her words were said in jest, but he couldn't help but take them seriously as he headed out the door.

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She was sitting outside on a blanket, bundled up in a parka and scarf, about a hundred yards from the house. He knew she saw him coming, but she didn't move a muscle, just gazed out across the barren winter fields. It was just above probably 50 degrees out, and she shivered whenever the wind hit her. Daryl didn't ask permission to share her blanket, just sat down next to her, hugging his knees loosely to his chest like she was. "You alright?"

She nodded, but still didn't look at him.

He hesitated before speaking, but he knew that he needed this, whatever it was, to finally be spoken about. "Maggie, enough already. Why won't you look at me?" He was even surprised by the vehemence in his own voice; he hadn't realized he felt that passionately about this whole thing, about her.

Never one to back down from a challenge, she swung her head quickly to squint at him in the early morning sunshine. "Are you serious? I have a headache and I come out here to get some air. And this is what I get?"

He could barely keep eye contact with her. Her eyes looked even greener than usual in the cold, or was it his imagination? He knew he wasn't imagining how porcelain her skin was. He began to regret confronting her so harshly, but it was too late to take it back. "Give me one straight answer."

She already knew what was coming. "No, Daryl, no. Just don't-"

"Do you want me?"

Her eyes widened in surprise at his boldness. Daryl felt like this was probably the most transparent and vulnerable that he'd ever been in his life. But if she said yes, then it would be worth it. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words seemed caught in her throat. "I…I can't believe you just asked me that, like straight up."

"Well?" _Definitely_ too late to go back _now_.

"I…I honestly don't know, Daryl." And she looked like she spoke true.

That was the moment that Daryl knew he had a choice: to stand up and walk away, or to not be a pussy. And while he really didn't want to think of Merle's face at this of all moments, he knew exactly which choice he had to make. So he leaned in and kissed her gently. And he knew he'd done the right thing when she kissed him back, only a flicker of hesitation quickly overcome.


	20. Chapter 20

**All I have to say...is that the last words of this chapter are directed at TWD's production team. **

She didn't know just how much she wanted him until he kissed her. And he kissed her so sweetly, like she was something he'd wanted his entire life. She couldn't deny him this. Without thought, she opened her lips to his, and he tested the waters carefully, his tongue delicately entering her mouth. She reciprocated gently at first too, but she was never one to hold back. She began to push back forcefully, welcoming him against and inside her. He responded in turn, almost animalistally, groaning deep in his throat, and before she knew it, he had his hands on her shoulders and was pushing her down onto her back. He propped himself up on his elbows directly above her, still clasping her upper arms through her puffy winter coat.

And that was when Maggie started to laugh. Daryl pulled back suddenly, a look of what she could only call insecurity on his face. But she couldn't stop laughing. "What?" he demanded of her, and she could definitely sense some anger roiling underneath.

"Nothing, nothing, it's just this coat!"

"Huh?" He sat up, looking totally pissed off now.

"This coat is _huge_! I can't make out with you in this thing." She smiled at him playfully.

He couldn't help himself, he smiled back and pulled at the enormous sleeve of her coat. "Who'd you steal this from? Tyreese?"

"No, it was my dad's." She purposefully put on a brave face for him, trying to prove to him that she could talk about her father now without bursting into tears.

Either feeling uncomfortable himself or trying to distract her, he grabbed one of her mittened hands in his own and pulled off its wool covering. His eyes never leaving hers, he kissed the back of her hand softly. "Well, if you just take all this off, then you won't have to worry about it anymore," he said. Was Daryl Dixon actually looking a little…mischievous? Her willing response to his kiss was obviously leaving him feeling bold.

She didn't want to acquiesce so easily though. "Well, maybe some of these things can go."

He leaned over and kissed her again once. She couldn't help being surprised by his openness. This was not the Daryl she was used to. She liked it, but it still worried her that he might have deeper feelings than she could return. He looked upon her face longingly for a couple seconds, but then he hopped to his feet, offering her a hand to help her up too. She guessed he could read the dubiousness in her face. But he didn't' seem too put off, which comforted her. Truly, her last wish would be to hurt him. They'd all been through enough already. And anyway, she felt kind of…invigorated. As they walked back to the house, closer than they usually would have been, she remembered what Sasha had said about him being a nice piece of eye candy. And she glanced up at him, seeing him honestly for the first time. And he looked down at her, absolutely beaming, and she saw that he was very much more.

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Carol saw them walking back toward the house together, almost brushing shoulders, and she knew. It pierced her to the core, though she wasn't positive in what way. She was so proud of Daryl, of the man that he had become. He had thrived in this world, become _better_ for it. How many people alive now could say that? She, on the other hand, had done what she had had to do to survive, but she felt that it was only to the detriment of her soul. She certainly didn't begrudge him this happiness. But she couldn't help wishing he felt that way about her. But what had she, in comparison to a beautiful young woman like Maggie? Carol felt tears pricking the back of her eyes, but she held them in, swallowing deeply. After so many months of holding herself to a standard of invulnerability, she wouldn't let this one little thing break her open.

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That night, before everyone sat down again to Christmas dinner, Maggie opened up to Sasha in the kitchen. She didn't even lift her eyes from her work on the counter, just let it fall across her lips: "I kissed him."

Sasha grabbed her upper arm, shaking her gently to make her look up. "What?" She lowered her voice. "Daryl?"

Maggie nodded, uable to hold back her smile. "Yeah, Daryl." For a second, it occurred to her that she'd actually done much more with him than what she had let on to Sasha. But that felt like another lifetime now. This thing that was happening now, this was like a totally different movie.

"Oh my God." Sasha was trying to keep her voice to a whisper and failing horribly. "I'm so happy for you."

"It was just a kiss."

"But it's exciting. You deserve that."

"Well, thank you. I don't know if I deserve anything. But it was really nice."

"Nice? I hate that word."

"No, I mean it for real. I know that's a lame word, but really. It was good. Really good." She giggled like a high school girl at that.

Sasha shook her head in satisfied appreciation. "I knew it. I knew it would happen eventually."


End file.
